Happenstance: Part Two (Happenstance #2) (10 page)

My skin felt raw and waterlogged, so I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around me. A faint knock on my bedroom door made me stiffen. Julianne poked her head in, and her face fell.

“Gracious, sweetheart, you look exhausted. Did you get any sleep?”

“I’m awake,” I said. “Wide awake.”

SAM AND JULIANNE MET ME IN THE KITCHEN
an hour before the first bell would ring at school. They both had concerned expressions, coffee mugs in hand.

“I know I said I wanted to spare Sam the details, but…,” Julianne began. She didn’t have to finish. I could see on Sam’s face that he knew what we did.

“I’ve been trying to think of something to say to you to make you feel better. Dads are supposed to be wise, but when you’re the one who raised the person responsible…” He trailed off, recoiling from his own thoughts.

“Sam, this isn’t your fault,” I said. “It’s not Julianne’s fault. It’s a brutal, ongoing cycle.”

He walked around the island and put his arm around my shoulders. “You make it very easy to forget I’m talking to a high schooler. I’m supposed to make you feel better, not the other way around.”

“Would it help if I said this sucks?”

He offered a small smile. “No, not after what Julianne said was in those journals. But thanks for trying.”

“Clearly upbringing has nothing to do with behavior,” Julianne said, rubbing her forehead. “You’re such a sweet, kindhearted person, Erin. Even after everything you’ve been through.”

“What are you going to say to Weston?” Sam asked, pushing up his glasses. The subtle hump on his nose failed to keep them where they belonged.

“You know about that too?” I asked, surprised.

“Julianne told me this morning. She wanted me to know what had upset you so much.”

I glanced up at Julianne, her white sweater making her look like the angel she was. “Did I wake you?”

“I was already awake. I’ve never heard you cry that way. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone cry that way. I had to know. I didn’t mean to pry, Erin, but it seemed too important to ignore.”

Three quick knocks on the door, and then we heard Weston’s voice, muffled by the door. “Erin?” he called, his nervousness evident.

I looked to Sam.

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

His footsteps echoed down the travertine-tiled hallway, and then the murmuring began.

“Just let me talk to her,” Weston said, his voice raised. “I can explain.”

Sam kept his voice low.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want to see me? Erin?” he called again. “Erin!”

“Weston.” Sam’s voice was strained, but firm.

Julianne’s eyes widened when a scuffle could be heard, and she rushed to the front door as well. I ducked my head and rested it in my hands.

“Stop!” Julianne said.

Their voices quieted, but the desperation in Weston’s voice could still be distinguished.

The door closed, and Sam and Julianne returned to the kitchen, both with stunned expressions.

“What was that?” I asked.

Sam sighed. “He wanted to come inside.”

“Did he push you?” I asked, swallowing. Apparently I didn’t know Weston at all.

Sam shook his head, clearly unsettled. “No, no…He pushed the door. I pushed back. He’s just upset. I told him you could discuss it later, but not to bother you at school. Want me to call Mr. Bringham?”

I shook my head. “Please don’t. I just want this to go away.”

“Why don’t you take the day off with me? We can go shopping. Or stay home and watch comedies On Demand.” Julianne’s contrived smile was oddly comforting. She was hurting for me, and so was Sam. Empathy wasn’t something I was used to, but there was nothing like it. Our family felt complete and real in that moment, and for the first time, I felt I belonged there in that kitchen, with the two people who loved me enough to stay up all night worrying, push against a door, and call the principal. I belonged with them because I belonged to them.

I hopped up and squeezed them both in a tight embrace. “Just a few more weeks. I can get through a few more weeks.”

Sam put his large hand gently on the back of my hair, pulling me to him.

Julianne pulled away to look me in the eyes, hers glossed over. “We wanted your last few weeks of school to be different. We wanted that so much for you.”

“I know.” I picked my bag off the floor and slung it over my shoulder. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Love you,” Julianne said.

Sam small smile was filled with awe and pride.

“I love you guys too,” I said, walking toward the garage.

“What else can we do?” I heard Julianne say. “I need things to be better for her.”

“She’s the toughest person I know, honey. She doesn’t need us to fix this for her. We’ll just love her through it.”

I smiled. That would carry me through the day.

In biology, there were already whispers of trouble between Weston and me. Sara didn’t ask, and that struck me as odd. Maybe it was already evident in my face, even though I was getting to practice my stoicism again. The scars that had formed over the years were easily brought back to the surface, stronger than ever, because this time I had a solid support system at home. I knew no matter what happened with Weston, I would always have Sam and Julianne. They were mine. Forever.

During second period, right in the middle of Mrs. Vowel’s lesson, Mrs. Pyles stood in the doorway with her trademark smile.

“I need Erin, Mrs. Vowel.”

The teacher dropped her arm from writing on the Smart Board. “Should she take her things, or will she be back?”

Mrs. Pyles looked to me. “Go ahead and grab your stuff.”

I did as asked and followed her down the plexiglas-lined hall, garnering stares from the students and teachers in every class we passed.

“They think I’ve hit the lottery,” I whispered. “And at the same time they’re judging me, thinking I’m benefiting from Alder’s death. Every good thing that happens to me gets twisted.”

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “Apparently Mr. Bringham and Mrs. Rogers are too. They want to touch base with you about how things are going.”

“Did Sam call?”

“Mr. Bringham didn’t say as much. Why? Is everything okay at home?”

“Sam and Julianne are wonderful.”

Mrs. Pyles looked relieved. “Good. You deserve nothing less.”

“Are we going to the office now?”

Mrs. Pyles nodded.

“Did they send you to get me?”

“It’s my planning hour. I heard Mrs. Rogers ask a student to send a note to have you come to the office, and I said I would do it. I thought this would give us time to chat. I saw you got a new car. That’s pretty fantastic.”

“It’s incredible. Sam and Julianne have already done so much for me”

“They’re such good people. And obviously lucky too.”

“Lucky?”

“To have you with them again. Getting you back, even after losing Alder, must have made it a little easier, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. They don’t really talk about it. I think they are afraid it’s unfair to me to talk about missing her.”

“I can see that. Makes sense. But they can miss her and still be glad to have you.”

“They do. They are. I don’t know anyone else who could handle it the way they have. I hear Julianne crying in Alder’s room sometimes. Not a lot. It must be really hard for them, not being able to grieve normally.”

“It’s unique. Both sad and happy. But everyone sees how happy you’ve made them.”

“You think so?” I asked, stopping in front of the office.

“Absolutely.” She winked at me and opened the door.

The secretary, Mrs. Bookout, popped up from her seat. She was barely taller than the partition that separated her desk area from the rest of the office lobby.

“I’ll just tell them you’re here,” she said.

When she reappeared, she gestured for me to go in.

“Are you coming?” I asked Mrs. Pyles.

“I have to use the copy machine and get a few things together for next period.”

With that, she walked behind the partition and down the hall to the back offices, and I walked into Mr. Bringham’s office. He sat behind his desk with a kind smile, his fingers intertwined in front of him. Mrs. Rogers sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, equally happy. This time the vice principal, Mr. Mann, sat in on the meeting as well. His reddish, thinning hair and square glasses matched his rust sweater.

“I hope you’re not nervous, Erin. We just wanted to check in with you. How are things going at the new place? Getting along well with Sam and Julianne?”

“They’ve been incredible. They told me the other day that they’re taking care of my college expenses.”

Mrs. Rogers beamed. “That is fantastic news, Erin. It truly is. We’re very happy for you. Looks like you’re getting settled.”

“I’m happy for me too.”

Mr. Mann crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Your grades are still looking good. We’re very impressed with how you’ve handled all of this.”

“Thank you.”

“How are things with Gina?” Mrs. Rogers asked quietly.

“Nonexistent.”

She nodded, clearly not sure how to react. “Everyone reacts differently. This must be hard for her too.”

“Actually, I think she’s relieved.”

“Oh,” Mr. Mann said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. You’re a great young lady, Erin. We just want you to know that we’re here. We’re rooting for you. Things like this…Sometimes reality hits when we’re not prepared, and if you find yourself lost, we’d like for you to let us find you some resources to help you wrap your head around all of this. Because it’s a lot.”

They all stared at me, as if they were waiting for me to break down.

“It hasn’t been totally smooth. It’s a lot to take in. But we’re taking it one day at a time.”

“So nice to hear you say
we
,” Mrs. Rogers said. “It’s important to have support at home.”

“I agree. I was just thinking today how much it’s helped.”

They looked at each other, relieved and satisfied with our chat. After we had touched base on my grades, college plans, and how impressed with me they were, they released me from class, but not before Mr. Bringham offered a chair anytime I needed to talk. I thanked him and headed for my locker.

Their positivity and smiles had my mind elsewhere, so when I turned the corner to see a devastated Weston standing at my locker, I was unprepared. I paused and then continued, determined to get through the combination lock quickly and exchange my English textbook for my Algebra II workbook.

He said nothing, just stood a few inches from me while I turned the black dial back and forth. I loaded my textbook onto the upper shelf and pulled out my flimsy algebra workbook. When I closed the long metal door and turned, Weston hooked his finger in my shirt.

“You read her journal from this year, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“I know what you’re thinking. I understand that you hate me right now, and if I were you, I’d hate me too, but please let me explain. You can punch me or scream at me if you want, but just hear me out.”

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want him to see the redness that darkened my face from chin to hairline.

“Sam told you to stay away.”

“Even if we didn’t have two classes together, I can’t stay away from you.”

“Try,” I said, walking away. I didn’t look back.

Algebra didn’t keep me as busy as I’d hoped. The thought of Weston staring at the back of my head or trying to talk to me during health and art made me queasy. So much that I could barely eat the cheese fries I’d ordered at Sonic during lunch.

The carhops hustled in and out of the double glass doors like ants at the mouth of their hill. The cars were parked in their respective spots on each side of the drive-in restaurant. Trucks and sedans all had their windows rolled down, the drivers either waiting for their order or pushing the button on the small silver box beneath the menu sign and waiting their turn.

My red BMW was the only vehicle parked with the window rolled up; my thoughts could have steamed the windows. Scream and punch him? I felt like I’d been screaming underwater my entire life; it was comforting to keep my feelings just beneath the surface. Most people wouldn’t understand, but reactions were dangerous, like temptation or addiction. Letting someone affect me was giving away the only control I had, and even if it was Weston, letting go—even once—of the fortitude I’d kept for so long was a slippery slope I was too afraid to step on.

Slipping off course now wouldn’t achieve anything. Weston’s need to explain and make this right was about him, not me. Justice was not his, it was mine. I had been the one surviving since the fifth grade.

Spanish with Miss Alcorn was uneventful, but I spent the entire period worrying about the next one. Weston sat right behind me in health class, and I dreaded any snide remarks from Brady. Since the deaths of the Erins, he wasn’t quite as vocal, but he still had his moments.

As I walked to class, Weston appeared next to me. We walked together in silence, and I didn’t acknowledge him when I sat down. It seemed all the worrying I’d done the hour before was for nothing, until five minutes before the dismissal bell, when familiar fingers grazed my shirt.